


Traveler's Tag

by Ladycat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode: s04e05 Travelers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John waits for it. He waits through the debriefing, with Carter's knowing eyes and her humiliatingly sympathetic smiles. He waits through dinner, where his team needles him just to make sure he's back and everything's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traveler's Tag

John waits for it. He waits through the debriefing, with Carter's knowing eyes and her humiliatingly sympathetic smiles. He waits through dinner, where his team needles him just to make sure he's back and everything's okay.

He waits through the whole ritual they've established and Rodney's brushing his teeth, foam dripping out the side of his mouth.

John is good at waiting. He has to be. He's a laid-back kinda guy, the one who never complains when he's stuck in the wait part of _hurry up and_ , who always takes imprisonment in stride. He's patient.

Except not this time. "Will you just say it already?"

Rodney blinks, foam dripping from his chin onto his shoulder. "Oh, dammit," he slurs and hurries to wipe both his shoulder and his mouth. "Toothpaste always stains," he says, gloomily, contemplating the wet mark that will dry white and flaky.

"Look, it wasn't like I wanted her, okay? I didn't. She was _crazy."_ He means it, too. Women who beat him up and intimate that she's going to keep him for some human light-switch-slash-potential-fathering-machine—and that's not the first time he's had that thought, but stuck in the cell with Larrin looking him over like a piece of meat, eyes glittering with possibilities, is actually a rare occurrence—are not women for whom he feels anything like attraction. Hate and a burning need to get away from them are actually the competing responses.

Rodney rolls his eyes at him. "Of course you wanted her. You're _always_ horny when you're in combat situations."

John stomps out of the bathroom before Rodney can see him flush. It's true—combat _does_ turn him on, almost more than flying can. But just because there was a spark and he didn't actually resist when she pressed up against him, smelling of sweat and excitement—

The hand smacking the back of his head is unexpected. "Ow, Rodney!"

Rodney wiggles his fingers at him, heading towards ‘his' side of the room to rummage out a clean shirt to sleep in. Rodney claims he used to sleep naked before they'd figured out how to manage staying together every night, and the only reason he wears a shirt now is because John drools all over his shoulder. John's never seen any evidence, though—okay, one time, but it was only _one time!_ —and suspects that Rodney never actually slept naked to begin with and is just trying to be cool. Why, John's never figured out, since Rodney frequently grumbles about _his_ sleeping attire: as close to fully dressed as possible.

"You're really upset about this, huh."

His jaw hurts like a motherfucker. Keller's patched him up and given him drugs but she knows as well as Rodney does that he won't take them until he's sure he won't be needed. They mess with his thinking too much. "Upset that I got captured by another ‘hot babe'?" he says, going so far to make air quotes.

Rodney just laughs at him. "Will you stop being defensive? It's not actually a good look on you, and this may actually be the first look that isn't." When John just stares at him, knowing his eyes are wide and worried, Rodney huffs loudly. "John. Get undressed, lay down, and go. To. Sleep. You're starting to bruise and for you, that means they were hitting hard."

Rodney at his most brusque and dismissive is his way of being reassuring. Why he's being reassuring _now_ doesn't make sense, though. There should be yelling, or being silently upset and waiting for John to start groveling or—or _something_ that indicates Rodney's displeasure that, once again, John kinda sorta got the girl. The crazy, dangerous girl, but. Girl.

Thoroughly confused, John strips down to just his boxers since his clothes are rubbing painfully against his bruised stomach, and crawls into bed beside Rodney. "I thought you'd be, uh."

"Jealous?" Rodney finishes. He tugs and twists until John's tucked up against him, Rodney's heat burning into the worst of the bruises. It feels so good, better than the drugs would've and something tight and painful in his gut unknots. Rodney only does this when he's worried about John, not when he's angry. "Of course I am," he says, loftily, "because _I_ want to be captured by the hot babe, for once. At least then there's something nice to look at, while she's torturing me for information."

"She was crazy," John offers.

"You said that, several times, and no, I don't think she was." Before John can protest, Rodney covers his mouth. "Shut up, you know I'm right. The whole living in space ships their entire lives doesn't exactly put a plus in the sanity column, no, but she was _desperate_ and desperate people don't plan very well or expect you to willingly offer help. Especially here. Remember Ronon? Or did you conveniently forget the first few months of him attacking first and never remembering how to function in a team?"

He hasn't forgotten that, actually, because carefully gaining Ronon's trust is still one of the hardest things he's ever done. Ronon had been truly feral, running on pure adrenaline for so many years that he'd forgotten how to judge anything except _threat_ and _not threat_ , forcing compliance because he couldn't depend on trusting anyone but himself.

Kind of like Larrin, actually. Only Larrin with friends and great big ships that had hyperdrives.

"There, you see? I knew you weren't that stupid." Apparently done, Rodney snuggles even closer—careful to keep his weight off the worst of John's injuries—and closes his eyes to go to sleep.

"So—you're not mad?"

"You knew we were coming, right?"

John remembers Larrin's smug satisfaction when her ships arrived first. She hadn't believed John's reinforcements were a ploy, only that her ships were faster. Which, well, they were. Junk or not, John wants to get his hands on those ships so much that his palms itch just thinking about it. "Yeah. I was hoping you'd be there a little sooner, but. Yeah."

"And you were trying to stay alive and buy us time?"

"Yes." No hesitation at all, because that's procedure, that's what John _does_. He believes in his team, in doing only what you have to— _locking Larrin in the chair room, safe and out of the way_ —in finding out as much as he can— _who_ are _you people, why have we never met after three years of combing these stars?_ —until everyone's there. Only then can he move forward with certainty, because his team will pick up whatever he misses.

John knows he's been a loner all his life, but he didn't join the Air Force just so he could fly. He wanted to fly in a _unit._

"Yeah," he repeats. "I was waiting for you."

Rodney makes a pleased, sleepy noise. "Good. Then I'll only be mad if you don't pop that pill that in your hand and go to _sleep._ We'll go take back your new warship tomorrow, okay?"

Sheepishly dry-swallowing the pill that's turned gritty against his palm, John lets himself settle back against Rodney as comfortably as his painfully throbbing body allows. "I can't believe you're not mad."

"Yes, well, I'm unpredictable like that. Although, if I find out you did more than kissing, then you will be paying for it for _months._ Is that enough for you, now? Good, because I am exhausted and I don't like it when you just vanish like that and it's time what we both just go to _sleep!"_


End file.
